Pazaak Encounters
by KotOR-Luvr
Summary: Mical finds his master alone in the Cargo Hold, bored out of her mind. He offers to play Pazaak with her. She accepts... But only if they would play Narr Shadaa rules... OK, this is what happens when you let me drink 2 cans of Root Beer while playing KotOR 2! LSF!ExileXDisciple/Mical pairing. Read and REVIEW! (would be greatly appreciated.)


**A/N: Err... Ok, I know that what's about to happen in this chapter doesn't ****_really_****fit the Disciple's personae, but that's why I'm writing this! Rated T, just in case.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own KotOR 2 or any of its characters; Bioware and Obsidian do.**

Serana Kyja was in the Cargo Hold, practicing her Jedi fighting forms. She seemed unstoppable, as her Viridian lightsaber hummed softly and its deep green glow filled the room. She attacked nothing but air, unleashing a series of kicks, flips, twirls, and slices. She was doing this for over an hour, never ceasing to rest. She just needed something to do; all of her companions- save Mical- were out at the Mandalorian camp, helping with the clean-up duties after finishing with their mission on Onderon.

She was horribly wounded from the mission, and her friends took notice, saying that she should stay back and heal up. And Mical- being the only doctor around- had and offered to stay behind and patch her up.

He had also ordered for her to stay in the Dorms to rest, so her wounds would heal up; but she couldn't do that. She was too restless. It had been several hours- 8 to be exact- since they left to help the Mandalorians.

"You should be resting."

Serana just ignored the voice that rang through the Cargo Hold. She didn't want to be bothered. She heard his voice again.

"You're putting to much strain on your body. Your wounds could open up again, and I don't want to put a sewing needle through you." Mical said, concern filling his voice.

All that she said was, "How long have you been standing there?"

Mical walked into the Hold, his arms crossed in front of his chest in an authoritative manner. "About 20 minutes." He replied.

She was still fighting the air, slicing it with accuracy and grace. "Mical... I will be fine."

He shook his head, "No," he let his arms drop to his sides, "you won't be alright. As your Padawan, I suggest that you should stop and take a break; but as you friend and doctor, I command that you must stop and rest." She couldn't help but smile at the sternness that was in his voice.

Deactivating her lightsaber, she turned to Mical and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, fine then," she sighed dramatically, "but I need something to do! It's just to boring, here!"

Mical just smiled, and pulled a Pazaak deck from one of the pockets of his trousers. "Well, _I_ know what you could do to pass the time..." He grinned mischievously.

Serana's eyebrow quirked up, surprised and yet amused. "_You_ play Pazaak?" She asked him.

"What?" Mical asked incredulously, "You think that just because I stay in a Medlab all day means that I don't do interesting things?"

She just rolled her eyes. Taking a Pazaak deck out of the inner pockets of her robes, she sat down and started shuffling her deck. "Alright... Lets play, then."

Feeling somewhat victorious, Mical took a seat across from Serana and shuffled his own deck. He looked up at her and asks, "So, Republic Senate rules?"

A strand of her strawberry-blonde hair fell in front of her face as she looked up at him. He had to put a lot of effort into not pushing it back behind her ear. "I was thinking, maybe we could play with some risk," a devious smirk played at the corners of her mouth, "and play Narr Shadaa rules."

With this, Mical's hands fumbled with his cards, flabbergasted by the comment that came out of her mouth. He gaped at her, his mouth open slightly, trying to say something. He was too shocked to make his vocal chords work, and wound up saying nothing.

Serana cocked her head slightly. "Are you trying to catch flies, Mical?" She asked. She didnt bother to try and hide to sarcasm that filled her voice.

Closing his mouth, he continued to stare at her, still unsure of what to say. "What, don't you know how to play?"

Mical narrowed his eyes slightly. "Of course I know how to play... It's just..." _'that you've put me in such a friggin compromising position and that I think that if I say anything, I'll look like and idiotic fool'_

"That you're too scared that you'll lose to me?" She crossed her arms in mockery.

Straightening his back, Mical said, "_No_ I'm not afraid to lose..."

"Then lets play."

Mical, suddenly feeling cocky, chose four handcards, and said, "Alright then, you asked for it. Bring it on!"

Some time later, Serana was down to her tank-top and tight-fitting yoga pants, while Mical only had his loose fitting shirt and trousers.

"Alright. I'm at 16, you're at 13. Who will win... Who will win?" She asked mockingly.

Mical glanced at her, and saw what little she was wearing. He hoped to Force that he would lose the round. He didn't want to face the indignity of seeing his Master semi-nude... Or having her face the indignity of being over-exposed in front of a man...

Flipping a card over, Mical wound up with a 6, leaving him at 19. "I stand." He stated.

Serana flipped a card over... "Plus 7... Use the minus 3 card..." She put down her last hand-card, "20. I win this round."

Mical let out a quiet exhale, relieved that he didn't have to go through seeing Serana take either her upper or lower garment off, but disappointed now that he had to take off either his shirt... Or his trousers...

_'Okay... Pull yourself together, woman! It's just Mical..._ "Ok. Shirt off." She said.

Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, Mical was pulling it off, his muscles rippling slightly. Her mouth went utterly dry.

His physique was utterly perfect- even with a few scars. Her eyes drifted across his tanned skin; from his muscled biceps to his well-built chest. She suddenly felt the urge to run her hand along the scars that were on his chest, to feel the muscles on his back... 'No, no! Bad thoughts, **BAD **thoughts!' She mentally smacked and scolded herself.

Mical's soft voice interrupted her thoughts, "Alright. Next round, you are _definitely_ losing!" He said.

Laughing, Serana shuffled the deck, and started the next round. "We'll see about that!"

Mical started off with an 8. "Hit me."

Serana gained a 3. _'I have to be really careful in this round! I don't have any handcards left'_ she thought.

"13. Hit me." Mical broke her line of thought.

Serana got an 8. "11. Hit me." Her palms began to sweat slightly... What was going on with her? She has never acted this way before, let alone in front of Mical. _'You just have never seen him without a shirt on.__'_ A voice inside her whispered.

"19. I stand. Try to beat that, eh." Mical grinned and raised an eyebrow at her.

She played a card... "10..." She muttered beneath her breath. She busted...

Mical stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to do. Summoning up the courage to speak, he cleared his throat slightly. "Umm... Tanktop..." His face flushed slightly, embarrassed by his current situation.

Seductively, Serana pulled her top off, slowly. Her arms stretched upwards, pulling it off completely, exposing her midriff and her chest. Her brassiere was the only thing that was keeping her dignity intact... Most of it.

Mical swallowed hard, his breath suddenly catching in his throat. He drank her in, as this would probably be his last chance to see her like this. Serana had a beautiful complexion. Her skin a soft Mocha. His eyes drifted to her ribs, and he saw the bandages that he placed there earlier.

He sidled closer to Serana. Brushing a hand across the bandages, he asked her, "Are your wounds healing?"

She responded, "Yeah, a little bit." Her voice seemed strained. Was he making her feel uncomfortable?

He looked at her face, looking into her eyes trying to find any shade of insecurity or fear. He found nothing but... Passion. His eyes glanced at her mouth, which was parted slightly.

In that small moment, he wanted to take her there and now. To make her his own, to touch her, to kiss her... to _ravage_ her.

His hand grasped her neck, pulling her to him. His lips captured hers, his kiss tender and yet full of passion. Slowly, the kiss deepened. Her tongue touched his lips, demanding entrance. He parted his lips for her, passion and desire fuelling his movements. He heard her moan slightly, sending shivers of pleasure ripple down his spine.

His hands slid down from her neck, and wrapped around her waist, closing the distance between their bodies. Her hands slid up his back, her nails digging into his flesh. The feeling of her soft skin against his was enough to drive him insane. He slid one hand from her waist to the hem of her pants, evoking a loud moan from her throat. He grasped the hem and pulled down...

"Am I interrupting something?"

The two Jedi quickly pulled away, breaking the kiss abruptly. They both turned to the door of the Cargo hold to see Mira leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed and a smug grin played on the mouth.

Mical was quick to retaliate. "It's not what it looks like!" That sounded a more squawky than he meant it to.

Mira's eyebrow curved, unconvinced. "Uh-huh. I'm sure it's not."

Before Mical could protest, Mira walked towards the Port Dorms, leaving them both embarrassed and confused.

Clearing his throat, Mical stood up, and said, "We should probably get dressed. We wouldn't want any of the others to see us in such a... Compromising... position."

Nodding her head in agreement, Serana slipped her top back on, slightly blushing at what just happened. She was gonna have a _lot_ of explaining to do to Mira the next time they'd talk...

**A/N: I've always wanted to do a short, romantic piece between Mical and the Exile. Hope you all enjoyed! Please R&R. Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**Note: Any flames will be used to burn Hanhaar! (Sorry to those who actually like that character)**


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